The Reason I Breathe
by KlainesSecretChild
Summary: Suicide is a major killer in teenagers. The New Directions are no exception. There will be a chapter for each member. WARNING: TRIGGERS, MENTIONS OF SELF HARM, SUICIDE AND RAPE AND BEHIND THE SCENES CHARACTER DEATH. RATED T FOR TRIGGERS.
1. Kurt Hummel (My Immortal)

The Reason I Breathe

**Suicide is a major killer in teenagers. The New Directions are no exception. There will be a chapter for each member. WARNING: TRIGGERS, MENTIONS OF SELF HARM, SUICIDE AND RAPE AND BEHIND THE SCENES CHARACTER DEATH. **

Chapter 1- Kurt

I've deliberated this for hours on end for days and days. This decision isn't an easy made one. You can scratch the surface with self-harming like I did, but it still won't make the decision for you. You have to think. _Do I really want this? Won't people miss me? _If you answer yes and no respectively to those questions, your choice is simple.

My choice became simpler as time went on.

You see, not everybody has a support network to come home to. My mother died when I was eight and my dad passed away five months ago when he had a heart attack. My friends are too preoccupied with their own (probably less important) problems to even notice my battle with suicide.

_Suicide_.

I shudder at the word. It's a horrible sounding word. It makes it seem like a devious crime. Well, it is taking the life of a person, but it's not like it's out of control. You decide whether you want to commit, nobody else does. Surely, it's your own choices in life that matter and, ultimately, in my head they do. Only I decide whether it happens or not. I try to not let other people shape what I do too much. I remember a time long ago when Blaine was telling me about a boy in his old school that attempted suicide and how mad Blaine got about it. He never saw a reason why somebody would try. Then, completely against the odds, Blaine tried to kill himself. Are you maybe a little hypocritical, Blaine? No I totally understand more than most why he tried. He got sick of the hate that followed him around like a poison in the air. He got tired of the bruises he'd have to cover up. He got fed up of lying to everybody about why he was crying and what he was doing with a razor in his bedroom.

That's my problem. I have nobody to lie to. There is nobody to even care if I left this Earth like one of the many gases dissipating into the air like nothingness, a colourless substance, just floating for eternity. That's why I believe happens. No heaven or hell. Reincarnation is a possibility which is reflected on personality before death. It all depends on how you've presented yourself in life.

Taking your own life is a delicate procedure. Everything has to be timed to perfection. The method, the location, the note, it all counts. Usually there's a note. I don't see the point in including a note when I go. For one simple reason: who is there to read it? It sounds morbid, but isn't it?

The reason I breathe is fear.

I'm scared to die.

There's always the fear about whether or not the journey from life to death is painful or arduous in any way, shape or form. That's what I'm scared of…but not entirely. I'm scared I won't be remembered as anything more than a statistic of gay teenagers who end their lives because they are being hated against for an uncontrollable desire. It's sad how many actually do.

I am one of them now.

I don't use pills, because that's too obvious. I don't hang myself, because that's too troublesome. I don't jump off a building or a bridge because that's too dramatic. Instead I use my trusty knife to slice my veins. I slice upwards, like Tate from _American Horror Story_ taught me. That's a sure fire way to kill yourself. Even putting it like that sounds like you're assassinating somebody. You are simply relieving yourself of the acerbic horrors of life and its poisonous grasp that captures you and feeds on your suffering.

Life works in strange ways. That's why I'm doing what I'm doing. I'm erasing my presence from this land.

Many of you will not understand why I'm doing this, but to those of you who do:

Please don't follow my lead. Please. It is heart breaking enough when one person slips from the clutches of life, but the more people that leave, the less opportunities people have to meet that special person, their soul-mate. I already found mine. In Blaine, I found somebody to confide in, to trust.

But Blaine is gone. He escaped the cruel environment of life just a year ago. First him, then my dad and everything collapsed. Nothing left to live for. Literally, there's nothing left. With NYADA rejecting me at every chance they get and Julliard not having any of it, my future has already been scuppered before now.

I'm giving up. I'm throwing in the towel.

With a couple of long, deep slashes, I'm gone. Just a memory in people's minds, a vague recollection once in a while. When people see a picture, they'll remember something about me. They'll remember my death. They'll remember my exit. The light collects me and I know it's the right time.

I'm sorry, everyone. I let you all down. Mom, Dad, Blaine, everyone I ever loved. I'm gone quickly, never to be awakened from a nightmare of death. I hope there isn't a funeral. People arriving at a venue, pretending they were so close to me. But there's nobody I would expect to attend. That may sound sad, but the moments of loneliness were some of the last moments of my life. The hardest moments were lived in complete solitude. But that's all over now. I'm a ghost of a memory now. A miniscule fragment of somebody's life that they will have some trouble remembering. I walked around and I just felt so lost, so lonely, so worthless. I was without purpose, just a shell, a mere shadow of my former self. Nothing felt real in my life.

So I ended it. Peacefully. In the wonderful company of only myself.

That's pretty much all there is to it. It was the right decision.

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**A/N: I have no idea why my stories are becoming so depressing lately. I've just finished seven of my GCSE Exams in French, Biology, Dance, Chemistry, Physics and English Lit. I have 2 History and 2 Maths left. But I LEAVE SCHOOL TOMORROW! HAPPIEST DAY EVER. CAN'T EVEN EXPLAIN MY JOY. Anyway, I thought I'd get this morbid piece up before I left. :D Have fun and review!**


	2. Santana Lopez (Young and Beautiful)

Chapter 2- Santana Lopez (Young and Beautiful)

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This world favours beauty over intelligence, charisma and real value in life. Beauty equals power. That's why I've had such a healthy high school life. I'm attractive, but have no real direction. My life is just a mess. I use a powerful veneer to hide people from my real pain, the fact that I have no value. I'm a shell of a person. At least, that's what I think.

Brittany tells me otherwise; she's my girlfriend, she has to. She thinks the world of me, something I know is definitely way off. I'm not anything special, I just pretend to be so she'll love me. The absolute truth is that I'm scared of never being loved if people see how ordinary and boring being me actually is. Neither of my personalities are very lovable. My mask is just pure bitch and the real me is just not somebody that anybody wants to be around. I don't even want to be around me.

That's why I'm doing it.

When somebody gets to a point where they hate who they are and cannot even stand to be around themselves, that's when you know it's your time. Well, it may not necessarily be your time, but you know it's time to go.

It's going to hurt Brittany terribly. But I just can't live anymore. It's too hard to be somebody I'm not. I can't be me because then I would have nobody that actually wants me to be around them.

So it's decided. I'm going to end my life.

If there's nobody to try and stop me, this all won't be so bad.

The reason I breathe is Brittany. She's my life. I love her more than I love myself. I've only held off killing myself for so long because of what it would do to her if I left this world without a subtle look back. The way my life would become a cue to cry for her. I would be remembered, but it would make her sad to think about me. I just can't continue this way. It's impossible. There's no viable option left anymore. It's like I'm in a hall of mirrors, but they've all been smashed. There's nowhere to turn that's free from fear of being slashed by the jagged fragments of the torturous mirror. In my case, Brittany is the only mirror left standing. Smash her and I'll be free to go. But that just so happens to be my biggest challenge. I can't possibly hurt Brittany. I could never. Smashing Brittany's mirror would take tons of courage and I just don't think I have that.

That's why I'm glad I wrote her the note. Whoever finds my slumped body has direct instructions to deliver my final message to my girlfriend. Everything I feel is in it, but I could never possibly say it to her face. Brittany would just cry and that tears my heart apart.

No.

I can't think of her anymore. As difficult as it is, I have to let go. Of everything.

My hands shake as I unfold the note and reread it to myself, trying to see if there's anything I missed out.

_To Brit-Brit,_

_Before I say anything, you know I love you so much, right? Well, loved. It feels weird having to use the past tense, but that's just how things work out. You have to know it wasn't your fault. You were literally the only thing tethering me to this world. I had nothing left at all. Nobody to count on, nobody that counted on me to stay for. It just got too much. I know that this might be difficult for you to take, but you have to try. Keep on and be strong, baby girl. You can literally do anything you want to. You have passion, drive and so much talent, Brittany. Succeed…for me. _

_Again, I'm so sorry I did this to you, _

_Your San. Xx_

I sniffle whilst reading her name, and a tear dribbles down my cheek and lands on the word Brittany, moistly layering it in my sorrow.

Well I guess that's it. Nothing left.

I mentally face my biggest demon and head straight towards it. Physically, a shaking hand clutches a bottle of pills, popping the cap off. A couple spill out, but there's still enough left to…finish things. In my mind, fire rages uncontrollably around me, the harsh embers singing my skin. The marks are representations of my scars. I pop pill after pill until all of a sudden…everything goes dark.

My world implodes.

It is done.

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**A/N: I personally like this chapter. Before I go any further, can I ask something to anybody reading this? **

**Are you guys still interested in my stories? I mean, I get views, but nobody seems to be reviewing things anymore apart from The Plan. If nobody is interested, then there's no point me continuing to upload. My FictionPress account PrettyLittleWriter gets hardly any views, but something tells me not to remove them. But this, I thought people enjoyed reading my stories. I know LOTS of you don't review after reading, but if nobody reviews, how do I know you're enjoying? **

**Sorry if you've lost interest...I'll try to fix things. **

**-Jamie x**


	3. Blaine Anderson (You Lost Me)

Chapter 3- Blaine Anderson (You Lost Me)

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Those people that say that your family is the best thing in life are wrong. Extremely wrong. They could not be more wrong where my family is concerned. Seriously, if I could choose my family, I wouldn't choose any of them. Not one. It's absurd; your family are stereotypically the people that are meant to love you the most in the world, no matter what. In my life, my family hate me the most in the world. It's just not the idea situation, is it?

Their family ideals revolve around perfection. When they found out that I was gay, they saw red. They just _flipped._ And by 'flipped', I mean went-batshit-crazy-and-loopy-and-broke-everything- in-the-kitchen flipped.It was completely unjustified and I cannot understand it, but they shunned me. The only reason they weren't kicking me out was because I had bravely threatened to call the appropriate authorities to get them reprimanded for abuse and neglect. I would've done it too. That is, if I hadn't thought about ending my life.

My Sadie Hawkins experience only strengthened my burning, aching desire to leave this world. It taught me that people like me are never going to have it good. There's prejudice everywhere, no matter age or location, but to be honest, I never thought there'd be prejudice at home.

The reason I breathe is Kurt. Kurt Hummel is my life, my heart, my soul. He's my inspiration, the light in my life when everything goes dark. The dark times are the worst. It's like all light has been extinguished from the world, with only one solution to actually regaining it. Suicide. The word rolls of my tongue, its poisonous syllables filling my mouth with an acrid taste and I can't help but spit into the kitchen sink. I grip the counter with both hands until a white colour floods across them both and I'm clenching my jaw. I'm thinking of the anger I hold for everything, except for Kurt, in this life. He's literally the only thing keeping me grounded, keeping me alive, to put it bluntly.

My breaths are short and ragged, but I can't seem to escape the clutches of my despair that I'm constantly slipping into. Usually, when I see Kurt, I am set free by my demons, but this time is a lot different. Even Kurt cannot anchor me to the world of the living. It's sick, but I feel the only way out is to completely disappear from a world where I'm mostly unwanted, and with one person appreciating me. Kurt is my everything, but this is a whole lot bigger than him. It's bigger than me. It's just something I have to do. I have been planning this for a while now, ever since Sadie Hawkins. Back then wasn't a time when I felt that I could actually do it, but the thought had plagued me, its unrelenting grasp forcing me to consider the worst. What I thought was the worst then is now my only option now if I want to escape my waking nightmare, the conscious form in which my own personal Hell has manifested itself in; my family. I don't want to be anybody's punch bag, which is why I joined fight club and learned to box. I've never had to use it since then. I can't exactly defend myself against my dad. He was a bodybuilder back in the day and could wipe the floor with my pathetic self any day of the week, whenever he liked to.

And boy, he liked to. I got so used to wearing my mom's concealer to school to hide my self-harm scars, that it did not take much deciding to wear it to cover the intense bruises on my face that were given to me by the despicable father of mine. He should have been ashamed of himself for beating him, but it ended up being me who was ashamed. Of myself. For being such a person that parents could never become proud of me and a son who his father has to abuse in order to feel better about having him around. It sounds very dramatic, but that's how it feels in my head. If you were in my head, you would possibly understand. My troubles are often hidden in my scars, but not to Kurt. I confessed everything to Kurt, hoping if worst came to worst, which it has, he would understand why. That he wouldn't just presume that I did it for some insane reason, and left him without explaining. The thing is, I'm not going to quickly scrawl down a note to my parents. I may as well just write them a guest list of who in the family is attending my Deathday Party. Hey, I bet they'll even get each other presents and draw up plans to redecorate my room. I'll be surprised if I get a funeral, but I guess I won't be around to find out the aftermath.

This decision has been made. I had thought about the most accessible way to do it. Pills, obviously. My mother had pills for depression when she found out about me and she had thought she'd lost me. The truth is, she had lost me a long time before that. I figured that I could just take lots of them and hope for the 'best'. It sounds bad that killing myself is now the 'best' case scenario for me.

I unscrew the bottle and take the pills, and everything turns to black.

Goodbye, Kurt. I love you.

It's done.

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**A/N: Yes, it's done. That was a sad chapter to write. They're all sad, but something about this one is making me tear up... :( Review, anyway, sorry I've probably depressed you with this. **


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